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I got here on prayer.

I sometimes forget things. Important things. Things that could have a pretty severe impact on my day. Things like putting gas in my car. Today was that day.

I vaguely recall looking at the gas gauge yesterday thinking, “Oh yeah, I should get some gas soon.” When I got into my ride this morning, there it was: a gauge that was not too happy with me and my “I’ll do that later” lackadaisical attitude.

I had to get my two high schoolers to school (like I do every morning) and then I could see to the urgent gasoline matter I was facing. And as I was turning into the school drop-off area, I got a sinking feeling. “Uh oh. This is going to be close.”

Thankfully I got them dropped off with no hint of distress or the quietly emergent situation developing. I was still a handful of miles from the gas station that was thankfully on my way to work, so I began my mental preparation of what I would do when the seemingly inevitable run-out happened. The road to work is woodsy, and windy, and normally wonderful. But today it felt more like a labyrinth with no cheese; each curve taunting me that there were a dozen more of its cousins I still had to survive.

Once I mentally settled on a lovely morning walk along a windy, dangerous, shoulderless road in order to purchase a gas can and then fill it with gas before walking back to my sad van, I simply leaned into a simple conversation with God.

I know its not uncommon to treat prayer like a spiritual flare gun, firing it off when all other options have been exhausted. But this talk was more along the lines of knowing that God knows exactly where I am and exactly what I’m facing and exactly what I need.

Maybe you didn’t face the dreaded “E” this morning with your gas tank. But I know for sure that you need to hear that last sentence: God knows exactly where you are, and exactly what you’re facing, and exactly what you need.

So my talk with God wasn’t “if you’ll just get me out of this mess, I’ll do anything” kind of talk. It was rather a trade that He invites us to make every single day. You submit your problems, trials, stresses, and empty tank, and He supplies His peace. Its a crazy offer we’d be crazy to pass up.

Before I knew, my rickety old van rolled into the gas station and I turned it off with a gratitude not only that I had made it and didn’t have to risk life and limb on a walk to the gas station, but that I had been given the opportunity to be reminded that no matter where we are, no matter what the gas gauge reads, we are held within His hand.